


the truth about art

by mongaygay



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: M/M, artist!minhyuk, but definitely flirting, jooheon is the cutest boy in the world, joohyuk are cute and not dating, minhyuk is too gay to function, relatable artist struggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongaygay/pseuds/mongaygay
Summary: Because he’s too gay and Jooheon’s too cute and because of a multitude of other reasons that can be immediately summed up just in the way Jooheon hums that gentle melody or the way he looks up at him and smiles quickly before looking back down again so he could paint. He’s so considerate like he knows how much of himself to give to Minhyuk to paint and how much of himself to give to Minhyuk to love, but Minhyuk is too busy being spellbound to truly appreciate it.Which brings him back to this. He looks at his canvas, small and pathetic and all he could afford outside of school supplies, and the pitiful tryhard painting of Jooheon on it. It’s not good enough, especially not when he has the real Lee Jooheon, certified beautiful boy, sitting on a stool just a while away, his cheeks begging to be kissed, while his painting is just begging for him to put a fist through it.--- the truth about painting from the perspective of someone who paints a lot





	the truth about art

**Author's Note:**

> i got the idea for this painting WHILE painting so the feelings are somewhat authentic... though i guess if i had a cute boy or girl to accompany me while painting it'd be a much smoother ordeal? or not? hope you enjoy!

The art studio is humid and dusty, the rays of light that enter through the half-boarded up windows don’t seem to hit anything in the right places, and an overpowering smell of oils wafts around the room, slipping through the spaces between easels and the cracks between paint bottles. In the middle of the room a boy sits on a paint-stained stool, his left hand resting tenderly on his thighs and leaning back onto his right hand, head tilted down to the floor. He hums a quiet song, fingers drumming to the beat.  

 

In the other end of the room (messier, more cramped, since all the nonsense had been cleared out of the first half), another boy stands behind an easel, hair spilling out over a sweatband, dressed in stained overalls with a pocket jammed with brushes that keep smearing paint across his chest every time he moves. Even with the pocket full of brushes, he still clutches three others in his left hand, and with his right arm he maps out the lines and curves and tones of the other boy’s figure. _This_ dirty boy is Minhyuk, and he’s dying.

 

Figuratively, unfortunately. Unfortunately he’s living, and suffering, while at it.

 

What he’s _attempting_ to do is paint Jooheon (the other boy sitting serenely on the stool) and impress him with his artist skills, but now he sees that what he’s actually doing is embarrassing himself and taking way too long to paint anything discernible on the canvas. He blends the tones on Jooheon’s cheek into with the brush he had just used to paint shadows and wants to kill himself as he stares at the now murky spot where an angel’s cheek should be. Who is he kidding? He’s not Michelangelo. (He keeps having to remind himself that just because he’s gay and dirty it doesn’t mean he’s at That level.) Why did he agree to this?

 

Jooheon turns his head up just slightly and Minhyuk looks up only to be hit with a face full of adorable. He knows _exactly_ why he agreed to this.

 

He thinks back to their interaction a few days ago.

 

...

 

Jooheon was being cute, as always, sitting just in front of him in the maths tutorial that seemed to go on forever. He’s sleeping, the poor fool, and his head bounces softly up and down to some drowsy warrior rhythm but for the most part, he’s still.

 

Still enough to draw. Minhyuk found himself doodling Jooheon mindlessly onto his worksheets that were (surprise!) otherwise empty, and (surprise!) didn’t bother to stop himself. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad drawing. And it was a hell lot more productive than he would have been if he had tried to pay attention. So he continued drawing his one source of distraction and the cutest friend he had like any sane gay artist (art student, but who’s checking) in today’s pseudo romantic world. Sweet.

 

Muse? The word floats in and out of Minhyuk’s mind on a regular basis, but he’s not so sure he’s ever found one. He’d like to, since all great gay artists seemed to have their beautiful gay lovers teasing them into lovely verse or paintings. In his biggest dreams he’d find the boy that pushed him into a Bosie-Wilde inspiration or a Vita-Woolf love story, but dreams are dreams and he wouldn’t be an artist without them anyway.

 

He wasn’t exactly satisfied with the doodle, but he might as well have called it is masterpiece because of how happy Jooheon was when he saw it.

 

“Hyung! Is that me?” Minhyuk swallowed and looked up and was almost blinded by the thousand watt smile Jooheon sent his way. Any attempts to cover up his poor pathetic pencil sketch had been futile when Jooheon had slightly jutted out his bottom lip, pink and sweet and pouty, and Minhyuk had basically shoved the drawing into his hands. _How dare he give me a smile like that and then pout to remind me that the happiness of the world’s only angel is at stake?_ He doesn’t even remember trying that hard to not shudder as their hands brushed against each other.

 

“I look so stupid but you drew so well!” Jooheon whined, slinging his arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders from behind in the biggest love story cliche to ever happen. Minhyuk laughed, wriggling his way out, uncharacteristically panicked. He shook his head, “I drew so stupidly but you look so well.” _King_ of coherence, Minhyuk. Jooheon laughed, his hands finding their way to each other around Minhyuk’s neck, closer until Minhyuk could feel his warm body on his back, and Minhyuk almost bolted.

 

“You should draw me when I’m not looking stupid.” As soon as the words had left Jooheon’s mouth, Minhyuk felt a thousand possibilities run through his head before he had to physically shake them off, immediately regretting his action when Jooheon took that as a cue to unwrap himself off of him. _Come back, beautiful boy️️..._

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You know, like when I’m posing for you and stuff,” Jooheon came around to right in front of Minhyuk, striking a vain pose, throwing a hand coolly behind his head and resting the other one on his hip like a misarranged art figurine. “Paint me like one of your french girls?” Minhyuk ducked his head to spare Jooheon the sight of him all tomato red and spluttering. Keep your cool Minhyuk! Be funny! He smiled back up at him.

 

“Oh I know, I meant when do you ever not look stupid?” With this and a laugh, he ran away if only to avoid Jooheon’s gaze (and his angry dainty little hands). Oh, they had fun alright.

 

Very easily, Jooheon caught him by the wrist and with all his playful anger had spun him around until they were inches away from each other, Minhyuk backing up with all his panicked might against the door behind him. Their laughs lingered and Minhyuk had continued trying to swat Jooheon’s hands away, but the even the dumbest boy in the world (Minhyuk) knew that the mood had shifted.

 

“So,” Jooheon twirled the strap on Minhyuk’s hoodie, and Minhyuk _knew_ that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. “Can I… come over sometime?” Minhyuk hesitated only for a second before Jooheon had given him a slight, coy smile and he had just nodded so he could look away from his soft, soft cheeks.

 

It was all worth it to see Jooheon’s smile turn into a wider grin, and to hear him say, as he walked away,

 

“Can’t wait for the painting date!”

 

Minhyuk leaned back against the wall feeling his heart beat in his chest so hard he thought he was going to die.

 

 _Date,_ huh _._ He was so fucked.

 

…

 

That’s why. Because he’s too gay and Jooheon’s too cute and because of a multitude of other reasons that can be immediately summed up just in the way Jooheon hums that gentle melody or the way he looks up at him and smiles quickly before looking back down again so he could paint. He’s so considerate like he knows how much of himself to give to Minhyuk to paint and how much of himself to give to Minhyuk to love, but Minhyuk is too busy being spellbound to truly appreciate it.

 

Which brings him back to this. He looks at his canvas, small and pathetic and all he could afford outside of school supplies, and the pitiful tryhard painting of Jooheon on it. It’s not good enough, especially not when he has the real Lee Jooheon, certified beautiful boy, sitting on a stool just a while away, his cheeks begging to be kissed, while his painting is just begging for him to put a fist through it.

 

Only when he begins slapping a hand to the back of his neck repeatedly, giving his head a few hard shakes to get more into the zone, Jooheon seems to realise that he’s maybe not having the best time.

 

He nods his head at Minhyuk, a silent _are you okay?_ , and when Minhyuk only offers a look of pure devastation in return, he gets off of the stool and comes over to take a look.

 

“This is so nice, hyung! I have no idea how you do it!” For some reason it sounds fake to Minhyuk, but compliments usually did, anyways, especially when he’s so frustrated with the painting as it is. Even when Jooheon rests his head on top of Minhyuk’s, the surprise and affection he feels is dulled by the annoyance that lies on top of his mood like oil on water. Trust Jooheon to be brimming over with compliments as if he knew enough about art to distinguish between the good and the bad. He bites his lip down hard, willing the annoyance to simmer over, but it lingers spitefully.

 

He clicks his teeth in annoyance in spite of himself and hears Jooheon sigh as the awkwardness settles between the two of them. Jooheon begins fiddling with Minhyuk’s shirt sleeve and Minhyuk battles the petty need to brush him off. What a terrible date.

 

Date! It’s a date. What a terrible _date_.

 

He looks up to see Jooheon looking somewhat stressedly down at him and realises that he’s giving him the worst date of his life probably.

 

“Sorry I couldn’t paint you like one of my french girls.”

 

“You did already, hyung. It’s not like Jack drew very well either.”

 

He pulls Jooheon’s hands up from where they were rested against his chin and over his face and they stay in that position until the oils on his body start to stink and itch again. That’s when he thinks maybe the gay artist muse live painting date wasn’t the best idea. What kind of a good first date involves getting all mucked up in oils and sweat and turpentine and probably mutual annoyance? He reminds himself that when Basil Hallward painted the love of his life all he was rewarded with was abandonment and a fatal stab wound. (When he presses his face into Jooheon’s palms and Jooheon giggles in response he _has_ to shake that thought away because _Jooheon_ ? _Stabbing_ ? Stabbing _him_? Not a chance.) All Henry Wotton did was sit around and teach him nonsense and he was much more well-loved, wasn’t he?

 

The stench of oils and the stupid brushes pressing into his chest soon addle his brain and brings him a brilliant, possibly disastrous idea. What was the perfect mix between the stabbed and the loved?

 

“Jooheon,” He hears Jooheon respond to his sudden cheerful tone with a too-soft relieved sigh and almost melts right into his palms. “How would you like for me to teach you how to paint?”

 

There’s a silence, and then Jooheon laughs and rubs his cheek into Minhyuk’s hair and Minhyuk thinks,

 

_Bingo. Jackpot._

 

_The date is back on track._

 

Jooheon is walking around standing at every corner of the art room taking selfies up high when Minhyuk re-enters with art materials for him, striking every cute pose known to man, and Minhyuk realises he’s already been ugly in the background of at least 6 of those selfies. He runs over, hand outstretched, aiming for the phone, and only after running a while he realises his panicked fly-catching gape is being captured in every single shot. Jooheon, bless his soul, is unfazed by the dirty boy running at him, and continues capturing every moment of Minhyuk’s attack. Wow.

 

 _The artist makes the art, I guess._ Minhyuk scrolls through the pictures a few moments later as Jooheon pulls Minhyuk’s spare apron on. (It’s covered in oil paints and other assorted grossness, and Jooheon’s already rubbing his dainty hands all over it.) Minhyuk can’t help but cringe, both at the way Jooheon is becoming one with the grime of the art studio, and also (he looks back down at the phone) at the way his own mouth stretches and yowls in every single one of these pictures. At least Jooheon looks cute.

 

“So, I can see that you definitely have a knack for becoming dirty.” Jooheon smiles sheepishly at him and Minhyuk (almost!) blushes, his hand brushing dangerously against a cup on the table. He looks around at all the art materials lying around. Hmmm.

 

“I’ll just teach you how to draw, I guess. At least you can wash that off.” He can’t help but laugh at the way Jooheon juts out his bottom lip at him and folds his arms over his chest. He’ll have to start with the cleanest, though. That is non-negotiable, especially since in the few moments that he’s been in actual contact with paint, he’s managed to become extremely gross. Minhyuk smiles over at his little artist protégée and crosses the room to clear up one of the very messy tables. Jooheon better have some talent at this thing, since Minhyuk has been working so hard to bring out the artist in him. The future of their romantic endeavours lies in Jooheon’s hands, and Minhyuk throws them another loving glance (because they are oh, so dainty and kissable) and prays for the right to continue pursuing this cute dirty boy.

 

“So to begin with, what you have to know is that you draw what you see, then you can create something that looks like whatever you’re going for.” Minhyuk starts with what he was started with, ignoring his imagination just for a little bit, learning how certain things are drawn and replicated, not discouraging himself from the get-go. He’s just fake-serious, reciting the age-old tradition but when he looks at Jooheon he’s nodding intently, and Minhyuk feels embarrassed by the focus that’s being put on him and his words. He ducks out of Jooheon’s sight and pulls him towards the newly clean desks. Sitting down beside Jooheon, he says, “I have to admit, I’m a pretty bad teacher, so you might get nothing out of this.” Jooheon swats him lightly and starts typing something on his phone, “Shut up, what should I draw?” A peek over Jooheon’s shoulder revealed his attempt to google for a “Shiny Metallic Car” which Minhyuk has to put an end to before the art noob goes and dashes his own hopes and dreams.

 

“How about a hand? That’s easy and still looks cool in the end!” Jooheon considers this for a moment, then grabs Minhyuk’s hand with his own.

 

“Only if I can draw yours,” he says and Minhyuk blinks, pauses a second, before he finally registers it. He yelps and pulls away (gay panic), and whines back, “Why mine? You have a hand!”

 

“But yours are so long! I need them to practice my artistry, isn’t that what you want?”

 

“That’s weird! Draw your own hand!”

 

“I want yours!”

 

Minhyuk thinks of an escape (how can he stand still and let Jooheon study his hand bit by bit when he’s gay?) and looks around the room desperately. He says, “How about you start with something else, actually?” Jooheon squints at him, clutching one (1) Minhyuk hand in his, “Like… what?” Minhyuk comes up with something quickly.

 

“A… A po- pot!”

 

“A pot?”

 

“Honey… pot?”

 

A silence hangs over them and Minhyuk watches Jooheon’s angry pout transform into a somewhat more contemplative pout before he shrugs and pulls out his phone to find a reference picture. Minhyuk all but heaves a sigh of relief. It is better to start with a sphere anyway? Excuses, excuses, excuses. He pushes back his hair with a sweatband again and sees Jooheon picking one up to do the same. Oh no. (He wonders why he hasn’t grown a bigger ass from how much his heart keeps dropping to it.) Pretty boy in headband, pretty boy in headband, pretty boy in h—

 

Jooheon smiles at him and Minhyuk is shocked back into reality, and they sit down to begin the crash course.

 

It’s fun, honestly, and several notches higher than whatever they had been suffering before, and Minhyuk is repeatedly surprised by how seriously Jooheon is taking it. He’s not terrible either, Minhyuk thinks as he sees the drawing take shape. He’s serious, and kind of good at this, and he’s curious, with so, so many questions. It makes Minhyuk’s heart melt.

 

“How do you decide what to draw?”

 

“Beautiful things, things I like, things that are easy, whatever’s in front of me.”

 

“Hmm.” For a while, Minhyuk wonders about this reply, wonders about all the little sketches of Jooheon falling out of every page in his books. Well, he supposes it isn’t any secret that he likes Jooheon, but he wouldn’t say he’s easy to draw. He’s beautiful and full-lipped and Minhyuk almost has him memorised, but he’s not easy. He’s… fun, yeah. He watches intently as Jooheon tries to figure out the ropes, the pads of his fingertips pressing onto the sheet of paper so tentatively, almost like he’s worried a slip of his hand might send it flying, and the way he pauses to see it all every few seconds, nods, continues. He has half a mind to start sketching Jooheon right at those moments.

 

And then a while later, as Minhyuk’s brain attaches onto the rhythm of Jooheon sketching, shading, erasing, checking back to the reference picture, his eyes beginning to shut towards each other like lovers reaching for each other in a forbidden embrace, Jooheon asks another question.

 

“Are muses real?”

 

Jooheon’s too soft, too sweet, and lulling and lilting and Minhyuk barely registers it, just replying the first thing that comes to his mind before his eyes close.

 

“If you find one, yes.”

 

-

When he wakes up, he finds a sketch (next to where he had all but drooled over) of a boy sleeping, and a note:

 

“I think I found a muse too.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed the fic! do tell me how you feel about it <3 feel free to find me on twt @mongaygay and tumblr @buttbebe (but I'm more active on twt) and also check out the joohyuk twt au i just started !!


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